Clarity and Salvation
by Jayneysuk
Summary: On his return from New York Boyd discovers he has upset Grace and a turn of events leads to further clarity.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Clarity and Salvation**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: MA for now**

**Spoilers: Nothing specific but up to and including Yahrzeit**

**Summary: So have you formed any assumptions?**

**Feedback: Notes: Although I have been writing fan fiction for a number of years, this is the first time I have stepped outside my comfort zone and tried something new. Who knows where it will go but here's a short taster. **

**Chapter One**

"Now what have I done?" Boyd asked, watching Grace's retreating back with confusion.

Eve shrugged, offering a suggestion, "Maybe it has more to do with what you haven't done."

He stared at her blankly. "Care to expand?" For once he wasn't sure what he had done wrong. It was mid afternoon on a Monday and he hadn't so much as shouted at anyone, intimidated a suspect, or been overly patronising, which was pretty unusual in itself.

"I should get back to the lab." Eve backed out of the room, smiling uncomfortably. One of the first things she had been told on joining the team was that you didn't get in the middle of a fight between Grace and Boyd, which observation had taught her happened frequently.

Boyd threw his hands up in the air and silently cursed. There seemed to be some force at work in his office, one that seemed to have turned the women against him in the short amount of time he had been overseas. "Spence," he yelled as the younger man walked past his door.

"Yeah."

"Any progress?"

"Nope. No leads, no tip offs, no case." It was driving them all crazy. For over a week they had received no new cases. Spencer had even resorted to trawling through the archives. Not that that was getting him anywhere. Tensions were starting to rise as they all skulked in the office, re-investigating cases that had no leads.

"Are you pissed at me too?" Boyd asked, staring a him intently.

Spencer stared back at him. "Should I be?" He began to grin. "Ah, you and Grace sparing again?"

"No." Boyd glanced towards the doctor's office and was surprised to see the blinds drawn. "Any idea what I've done?" he asked. "Man to man."

"Sorry, Boyd, I'm keeping well away from that one," he chuckled lightly. Eve and Stella had a theory, one that he wasn't entirely sure of, but he wasn't going to dismiss it either. He certainly wasn't going to voice it in front of either party. "I should get back to . . . " he fumbled. There really wasn't anything particularly pressing. " . . . the files." Spencer practically ran back to his desk.

Boyd returned to staring at Grace's office, more confused than ever but without a clue as how to find out what the team knew and he didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

-1

**Chapter Two**

The doctor's office was dark, the only illumination coming from the small desk light and the inane screensaver on her monitor. Grace was sitting at her desk, staring out of the window, her thoughts drifting as she came to decision after decision without any real conclusion to the problem at hand.

Eve watched her from the doorway for a few minutes before calling her name. "Grace?" Eve repeated, moving towards the desk.

"Sorry. I was miles away." Grace smiled weakly as she turned. "What do you need?"

"Who's the lucky guy?"

Grace tried to feign confusion. "I was thinking about . . ."

"So it is a guy!" Eve grinned, settling herself on the arm of the visitor's chair, silently urging and hoping for more information. It had to be a guy that was causing Grace so much consternation, she was too professional for work to make her so temperamental, and Eve had a pretty good idea who the guy was too. Her and Stella had been debating the issue for weeks, neither coming up with a way to push the issue. Now there seemed like an opening was in her reach.

"No."

"Really. And I thought you forayed into drama at university."

Grace looked confused.

"You're not a very good actor."

Grace rose to her feet. "Can I get you some tea?"

"You know what's said between these four walls stays between these four walls."

It wasn't that Grace didn't want to talk to someone, there were just a million and one complications. The person she really wanted to talk to seemed to be slipping further and further away to the point that any friendship they had was tentative and awkward. Her peers would probe deeper than she was willing to submit to. Mel was dead, Frankie off to pastures knew and as much as she loved Spence he wasn't someone she wanted to confide her deepest secrets in. As sad as it was to admit, Eve and Stella were the closest she had to friends with the life she had chosen to live.

"I'd share the juicy details of my love life with you but a deep seated obsession with dead bodies seems to put off even the most determined of men."

Grace raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm getting action. They generally don't stick around for coffee."

"Their loss."

"So is it the real thing?" Eve asked casually.

"It's a crush. A silly middle aged fantasy." Grace let out a deep sigh, wondering how a man could suddenly make her feel so silly.

"Really?" Eve teased, sliding into the chair. "Do tell."

Grace shook her head, realising she had already said too much. "It's nothing."

"Stella and I are grabbing a drink. Maybe some food. Want to join us?" Spencer asked, sticking his head around the door, clueless to what he had interrupted.

Grace glanced at Eve, thankful for the interruption. "Why not?"

"If you're buying I'm in." Eve rose to her feet, pausing by the door. "I was serious earlier. If you ever want to talk about anything, you know where to find me."

"You ever need to be psycho analysed come find me." Grabbing her purse, Grace flipped off the desk lamp and followed Eve out of the office.

"What's everyone drinking?" Boyd asked, hovering over the table as everyone got settled. It wasn't that often that he went out with them, usually he worked late and went straight home. Spencer, he knew, liked to hit the clubs, staying out late and arriving at work looking like 'the cat that got the cream.' Eve preferred to hang out with dead bodies, Grace with her peers, or at least that was what he imagined. Stella, he had no idea about. Tonight though Spence had chosen to rally them all and he, feeling slightly distanced from them all, had invited himself along. "Red wine for Grace," he smiled knowingly.

"Beer."

"White wine."

"I'll come with you," Spence offered, handing out menus to the women. He gave Grace a tentative smile, not completely oblivious to the tension in the team, but not willing to choose sides.

"So what have you decided to do with your vacation?" Stella asked Eve, turning in her chair.

"I haven't decided. Bolivia, Argentina, Bosnia. There are mass graves there that need clearing."

Grace shook her head. "Some people would go for the sun, sea and sand option."

"Or the Big Apple," Eve suggested helpfully.

"Yeah, some people."

"I'm a workaholic."

"Over-achiever," Grace offered.

"You're one to talk. When was the last vacation you had?" Eve asked, settling herself back in the chair. "Hey, you could come with me."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, because he copes so well when she's not here." Her words caught in her throat as she realized what she said. "Sorry."

Grace scoffed. "The tyrant needs people to torment."

Eve and Stella shared a knowing look. It was more than that, they knew. Boyd for all his faults genuinely trusted Grace, and her absence left him isolated. He was ten times more relentless in his pursuit for justice and a hundred times more unbearable when she was out of the picture.

"Have you guys figured out what you want to eat?" Spencer asked, unaware to the tension around the table. Handing Eve her beer and Stella a glass of wine, he stepped back, sipping his own beer. "Boyd's paying."

Grace picked up the menu. "In that case I'm suddenly feeling hungry."

The atmosphere was relaxed and full of banter as they ate and drank a little more than they probably should have in each others company. The bar that had been empty when they had arrived was overcrowded and stifling by ten o'clock, the noisy making it difficult to carry on a conversation.

"It plays everything except the really cheesy stuff, " Spencer said, his voice rising above the din of the bar.

"Honestly, Eve, it's not that bad."

Spencer shot Stella a weird look.

"I just meant . . . Well you know, it's not full of busty undergraduates. Much to Spencer's distain sometimes."

"You make me sound like some middle aged Lothario."

"If the cap fits." Stella helped herself to the rest of his beer.

"I should get going," Grace announced, glancing at her watch and stifling a yawn.

"Don't fancy clubbing?" Eve teased, shaking her hair loose and slipping out of her blouse to reveal a vest that left little to the imagination.

She rolled her eyes. "A good book and a night cap is more my thing."

"How are you going to get home?" Spencer asked, ever the gentleman.

"Taxi."

"Want one of us to ride with you?"

Grace shook her head. "I'm a big girl now, Spence."

"We could share," Boyd offered, feeling his age suddenly. The idea of clubbing to the early hours and getting up for work the next day was something he had left behind in his youth. Of course his route home was no where in the vicinity of Grace's but they were friends and he was old school.

"I'm fine, really," she said, unsure about sharing a ride with him, unsure of what they would talk about or how much of an idiot she would make of herself. A crush she had told Eve, a little white lie she told herself, knowing that when she took the job she was leaving herself open to him. For years she had denied herself feelings, concentrating on friendship and her job, then Mel had died and she'd re-evaluated, allowing herself to imagine how she would feel if it was him. "Take care of each other."

A chorus of nights followed her out of the door and when she came to a halt on the pavement she felt his presence. "Boyd?"

"For once, Grace, just accept it, no arguments, no lengthy analysis."

She shrugged, holding her hands up in surrender, wondering what had suddenly brought on his mood, not that he ever needed a reason. "Ok."

The ride to her house was silent, neither really up for conversation, instead they lay back against the seat, eyes closed as they drove through the nearly deserted streets.

As the taxi came to a halt outside her Victorian semi, she opened her eyes and reached for her purse.

She tried to pay for the taxi but Boyd shook his head. "On me."

She looked at him, debating whether she should invite him in, deciding that she really didn't want him there.

"Night Grace." Leaning in, he gently kissed her cheek, not sure where the impulse had come from but not fighting it either.

"Night, Boyd."

She walked towards the house, a little stirred by what had been, by anyone's standards, an innocent kiss. Of course it was a kiss, not something Boyd often did.

He had closed the door of the cab and was watching her from the window.

Raising her hand, she waved before unlocking the door and walking inside. She stopped on the threshold, her hand to her mouth at the sight before her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Clarity and Salvation**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: PG, at least for now**

**Spoilers: Nothing specific but up to and including Yahrzeit**

**Summary: So have you formed any assumptions?**

**Feedback: Notes: Although I have been writing fan fiction for a number of years, this is the first time I have stepped outside my comfort zone and tried something new. Who knows where it will go but here's a short taster. **

**Chapter Three**

"Stop," Boyd yelled, his hand already on the door handle. There was something in the way Grace stepped back from the doorway, her bag dropping to the ground that triggered something in Boyd. Without hesitation he was sprinting out of the car and running up to her.

Grace jumped as she felt his presence, her body instantly relaxing as he whispered her name and his hand lay gently on her arm.

Boyd took one look at the hallway, his eyes taking in everything and he placed himself in front of her, his body in protective mode. The narrow corridor was littered with her pictures, photos of her children smashed into the carpet and he could see the overturned desk at the end of the hallway. Gently, he held her back. "Call it in," he instructed quietly before steadily stepping over the threshold and walking through the house, inspecting each room, stepping over the chaos that were once her belongings. Assured that there was no-one lurking downstairs and she was still beyond the door, illuminated by her security light, he crept upstairs, stopping every few steps, checking for noises inside the house.

Grace returned the phone to her bag and pulled her oversized cardigan around her body. Time seemed eternal as she waited for him to return.

Five minutes later, he reappeared before her and tugged her inside, closing the door behind them. "There's no-one here."

Grace followed him down the hallway, feeling bereft as she caught sight of her things scattered and broken. Her house was now a crime scene and as upset as she was inside her brain was kicking into psychologist mode.

By the time the police arrived, Boyd had secured the house, checking every window and door for finger prints before locking them firmly.

They were standing in her kitchen, Grace torn between making tea and wanting to tidy up when the there was a knock at the front door. She opened the front door a crack, checking their identification before she let them in.

Boyd was on the phone when she re-entered the kitchen, his voice uncharacteristically calm and quiet, his first instinct to protect the team and the evidence.

"Spence, I need the team," he spoke into his phone.

"Boyd," Grace whispered, staring out of the window as officers once more checked her house, following the same logic as her Boss. Her house, or as much of it as Boyd would let her see was wrecked, her belongings were strewn around the floor, furniture tossed aside and Boyd had taken over, treating her like a victim as he threw orders around. Silently, she moved to the desk, careful not to touch anything, and scanned the pile of papers on the floor. She knew instantly case reports were missing, but she couldn't think as to why they would have been taken, of little interest to a common thief.

"There's been a break in at Grace's. I'm not sure if anything is missing but they did a pretty thorough job. The police are here but I'd like our people to take a look." He glanced at Grace, mistaking her mystified expression for fear. "I'm going to take her home with me."

It was the last thing Grace had expected and she could barely contain the anxiety from her face.

"No, I don't want her to stay here any longer than is necessary. You need Stella." He continued to hold a conversation with Boyd while he watched her. "It's gonna be ok," he offered gently to her. "Just in case they come back. I don't want you to be here alone." He returned to the phone conversation. "I'll make sure there's an officer on the door. Take a cab or call one of Eve's people for a lift."

Grace watched as another officer walked through her house, his shoes leaving muddy footprints on her hard wood flooring and she suddenly felt like screaming, yelling at them all to get out and let her clear up the mess and go to bed. The red wine made her feel nauseas and all she wanted was to be alone, or alone with Boyd, she wasn't sure.

"Why don't you grab your pyjamas and a toothbrush," Boyd suggested, silently appearing beside her.

"I might need a little more than pyjamas and a toothbrush," she laughed forlornly.

"Want me to come up with you?"

She looked at him in horror. "I'll be fine." The idea of Boyd watching her pack her underwear and grab her toiletries was not a pleasant one. It wasn't until she stepped into her bedroom that she realized he had seen most of her 'Bridget Jones' knickers littered across her floor. The urge to cry was almost overwhelming and she sank onto the bed, covering her face with her hands.

"Are you ok?" Boyd called from outside the door, not wanting to intrude. From the second he had entered the house he had been torn between being Boyd the policeman and Boyd the friend. He wanted to find out who did it and get her justice but he also wanted to comfort her and make her feel safe. The two he had quickly realised were incompatible and for a few hours he would have to be a friend leaving the police work to Spence. "Grace?"

"I'll just be a minute."

She wiped her eyes with her finger tips.

"We can come back tomorrow and grab your things. I'm sure I have something you can sleep in for tonight."

"Boyd!" she exclaimed in irritation. "Please just give me a minute." Pulling herself together she gathered what she considered essentials, wary of destroying evidence, and headed back out into the hallway.

His hand rested on her back, guiding her to the taxi, hovering above her shoulders as they rode in silence.

They had worked together for years, often spending more time with each other than their own families but Grace had never been to Boyd's apartment before. It was, she decided the second she stepped through the door, exactly as she imagined. More than anything it lacked a woman's touch or the feel of anything personal.

He began to pick up his belongings as he showed her into his living room. "Make yourself at home."

"I can go to a hotel." She sounded unappreciative.

"Do you want to go to a hotel?" he asked, torn between being put out and concern for her well being.

"I just feel like I'm putting you out, Boyd," she offered honestly, hovering in the living room, watching his attempts to tidy up.

"Give me five minutes to throw some sheets on the spare bed and we're set." He headed towards one of the two bedrooms. "There's scotch on the counter or I can make coffee."

"I'll make coffee." As much as alcohol would help dispel the emotions running through her body, she needed a clear head.

Grace shivered despite the warmth of his apartment. For the second time since joining the team, her house had been riffled. This time they weren't actively working a case but it wasn't a regular burglary and it frightened her, not that she was going to let any of them know that. There were case files missing, that much she was sure of, her jewellery box had been broken into but she couldn't see anything missing but the most concerning thing for her was what she kept in the spare room.

"Grace?" he said gently, appearing at her side, lightly touching her arm. "Are you ok?"

She jumped, her arm brushing his chest and a need to be held almost overwhelming her.

"Here, let me make the coffee," he offered lightly as he would to a victim. "Take a seat."

Crossing the room, she perched on the edge of his couch, her arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

Boyd watched her from across the room, not sure what to say or do. He chose the banal. "So have you formed any assumptions?"

Grace turned to look at him. "About you? I made those years ago." She forced a smile

"I'm an impatient bully?"

"You're more than that," she said softly. So much more she thought to herself. "It's just you give in to those traits."

Boyd shook his head, surprising her by laughing. "Not exactly how I envisioned spending my evening, getting psychoanalysed by my colleague."

"You asked the question. I can go to bed if you want to call Sarah." She hadn't meant to sound bitter, it wasn't in her nature but she found she couldn't help herself. And it wasn't any of her business if Boyd wanted to date, in fact he had picked a pleasant, seemingly uncomplicated woman. Of course in the rare moments when she let her psyche take over she wanted to be the woman he needed.

"The office grapevine has been working overtime, I see." He didn't deny it. He wasn't sure why he had not told her, other than he wasn't sure if there was anything to tell. The problem with Grace was that she always made him think about things too deeply, not what he needed at the start of a new relationship.

Grace remained silent.

"Here, drink this. It's late. Get some sleep and we're head over to your house in the morning."

She hesitated, wanting to tell him about the missing files but feeling silly, wondering if she was worrying unnecessarily. Taking the mug, she followed him to the spare room.

"If you need anything wake me."

"Is that wise?"

"Night, Grace."

"Night Boyd," she said, giving him a small smile and closing the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**I've been trying to post this for days but the site seems to hate me, so apologies for the delay. At least it has given me time to work on the next few chapters.**

**Title: Clarity and Salvation**

**Pairing: Grace/Boyd**

**Rating: PG, at least for now**

**Spoilers: Nothing specific but up to and including Yahrzeit**

**Summary: So have you formed any assumptions?**

**Feedback: The characters herein aren't mine. I just play and put them back when I'm done. **

**Chapter Four**

Boyd ran his fingers through his hair and padded through his apartment towards the kitchen. He wasn't at his best first thing in the morning, his brain not yet engaged and his need for caffeine almost overwhelming. It wasn't until he wandered into the kitchen that he remembered his house guest and his state of undress. He came to an abrupt halt at the sight before him. "Grace."

"Morning Boyd." She turned to acknowledge him and felt the all too familiar feelings surface again. She allowed her eyes to roam his semi-naked body settling on his bare chest, the reality of what she frequently daydreamed about making her blush. What she saw made what should have been an awful morning all that much better.

"Something you like?" he teased, masking his own awkwardness as he picked up the kettle and shook it.

She flushed even redder and turned back to the hob. "It's just come to the boil." And she wasn't just talking about the kettle. "I thought I'd make you breakfast."

"You didn't have to do that." He busied himself making a mug of tea, strangely settled by the familiarity of the situation.

"The least I could do under the circumstances." She continued to scramble eggs, her back to him. "Do you actually eat here?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled a face. "Yeah, cause I'm home so much. Did you sleep ok?"

"Not really." It had nothing to do with the violation of her home, but more to do with being in his apartment, stepping over the fine line that they danced between friends and colleagues and something more. Piling the eggs onto toast, she turned to hand him a plate.

"You should have woken me." He took the offered plate and settled himself at the table.

"And you would have done what exactly?" Grace asked, amused by the role reversal.

Boyd shrugged. "Maybe nothing but at least you would have had company. What?" he asked as she pulled a face. "Too touchy feely for you?"

"You can't fix everything, Peter."

"Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me. This is really good." He continued to eat breakfast like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"You need to eat decent food more than once in a while. And I don't mean pie and chips from the local take away."

"You need to stop mothering me."

"I really don't know what else to do with you," she admitted, half truthfully.

Boyd suppressed a grin as a dozen things he'd rather like her to do crossed his mind. "I need to take a shower," he commented for want of anything more insightful to say.

"And? Need me to wash your back?" she asked, her tone light and teasing as the awkwardness began to slip away. "I was kidding. Ok? The bathroom's all yours."

"I'll be ten minutes," he stated, rising to his feet and starting to move away.

"I should expect to leave in about fifteen then?"

He gave her a look, attempting to show displeasure. It had no effect. "You could save me some time and iron a shirt."

Grace scanned the vicinity for something to throw at him.

"I was kidding," Boyd said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I have a couple of clean ones left."

"Boyd! Then we'll head over to the house!" Grace said, beginning to clear away the breakfast things.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, half away to the bathroom.

She nodded resolutely. "It's my home."

"But . . ." He briefly saw the pain in her eyes before she hid it. "Ok, fifteen minutes."

-------------------

Grace unlocked the front door and hesitantly stepped into her house. The devastation she had felt the night before was ten times worse in the cold light of day especially with the tell tale signs of the team at work.

"You don't have to do this," Spence whispered, his hand lightly resting on her back.

"You need to know if anything's missing."

"That can wait."

She looked at him unconvinced. Turning until she could face them all, feeling less overwhelmed with the house behind her, she glanced at each of her friends in turn. "I'm fine. I don't need to be fussed over. I don't need to be handled, ok? We're going to go in there and do our jobs. I am not going to break. Ok, everyone?"

They all stared back at her.

"Ok?"

Three voices mumbled yes in unison and she nodded satisfied before leading them into her house. Stepping over the threshold and making her way down the corridor she realized she'd underestimated how much being in the house again would effect her but she had witnessed worse, they all had and she couldn't let them see how distressed she was getting.

"Why don't Grace and I start upstairs?" Stella suggested, glancing at Grace and seeing how hard she was struggling to control herself. "The last thing she needs is you two trampling through her bedroom."

"Many women would pay good money for that," Spence offered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, but I know you," Grace threw back lightly.

"Is there anything we can do?"

She looked around the kitchen and sighed. "Make some coffee. This is going to take a while."


	5. Chapter 5

-1**Clarity And Salvation**

**Chapter Five**

"You should tell him, Grace," Stella said, glancing hesitantly at the door and back at her friend. They had been sitting in the older woman's office for the last half hour as Grace admitted what had been bothering her since the previous evening. Stella wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know in her heart. "What if there's something in the files?"

"What was in the files?" Boyd asked, startling both of them. He propped himself up against the doorframe and looked between them more bemused than angry.

Grace took a deep breath and refused to meet his eyes. "There were some files on the desk. Old cases. Interview notes from the unit . . ."

"Do you remember which ones?"

She nodded mutely.

"Why didn't you just say something back at the house?" he asked, his voice gentler.

She remained silent.

"Oh, for gods sake, Grace." The gentle tone had disappeared.

"I wasn't sure." Grace glanced at him hesitantly.

He looked unconvinced. "Anything else?"

They both had their demons, neither very practiced at sharing them with anyone else but over the seven years of working together they had developed a connection and for the most part they didn't keep things from each other, at least not when it mattered. "Grace?"

"Bill's file." She looked away, focusing on something imaginary beyond her window in the corridor.

Boyd closed his eyes, acknowledging that they were about to step into uncomfortable territory for them both, opening them again to look at Stella.

Quietly, the younger woman rose to her feet, smiling reassuringly at Grace before leaving them alone.

Boyd closed the door behind her and settled himself beside her on the couch, his hand resting on the cushion between them, fighting the urge to take her hand in his own. "You've never asked me to look at them."

"I've thought about it." Bill's original case file was somewhere in the basement with the hundreds, probably thousands of unsolved cases. It was ten years ago, before she had even met Peter Boyd, but he knew the circumstances, just not the details.

"But you didn't ask."

"Boyd," she offered wearily. It would have seemed a natural thing - to ask him to read the case notes - considering what they did for a living but something had always gotten in the way and more than anything she didn't want it to become an issue for them or a personal favour.

"Ok." The distant look in her eyes, one he recognised all too well, stopped him pressing any further, at least for now. "Why were the cases on the desk?"

"I've been doing a little moonlighting," she admitted candidly. "Writing a paper."

"I don't give you enough to do here?" Boyd asked lightly. "Did you think I would be angry?"

Grace turned to look at him finally, slightly taken aback by his disappointment. "No, I didn't think you would be interested."

Boyd turned to face her, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Not interested. Do you know how long I've followed your work? I bought the book long before I knew what forensic psychology meant. I asked for you on this team."

"See now you're getting tetchy."

He sighed, realising they were getting nowhere. "Can you write me a synopsis of the cases. I know no names, no details, just so we can figure out why they were taken."

Grace nodded. "Do you want . . .?"

"Not Bill's, no." He fully intended to pull that from the archives himself, quietly and without her knowledge. "Ok." He rose to his feet, trying to suppress the urge to touch her. He failed, his hand lightly squeezing her shoulder, his eyes he hoped expressing far more than their usual banter could.

"Ok, listen up," Boyd announced, walking into the bull pen, gesturing wildly with his hands. "The intruder took files from Grace's place. Not news to some of you I know." He looked pointedly at Stella. "Grace is going to give you a synopsis of which files. Maybe it's something, maybe not," he offered for Grace's benefit. "Tomorrow. Tonight we're calling it a day."

"Great, because I have some serious cleaning up to do," Grace announced coolly.

They all turned to stare at Grace, the same slightly horrified expressions on their faces.

"What?" Spence was the first to articulate their thoughts.

"You're staying with me again," Boyd said firmly.

"I can go home."

Spence shook his head. "What if he comes back. What if it wasn't about the files?"

"Really subtle, Spence," Stella chastised. "At least let us check the house again, make sure it's safe."

Boyd began to pace, his agitation barely controlled. "No security system is going to keep someone out of they really want to get in. The safest place at least until we rule out the importance of the files is with me."

"I agree with Boyd," Spencer interjected.

"I wasn't aware we were polling," Grace commented sarcastically.

"All those in favour of Grace staying with me," Boyd grinned, hoping to lessen some of the tension and bring Grace willingly around to his way of thinking.

Four hands shot up.

"Those against."

She rolled her eyes and headed back into her office, leaving the door open, knowing he would follow, but needing to control her emotions before facing him.

"Grace?" he asked softly, staying in the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"I don't see why I need to stay with you. My house was broken into. It's surely a common hazard of living in the city. The likelihood of him coming back is minute. "

"Yeah. But I'm . . ." he looked at her, confused by what was driving him to react on impulse.

"Concerned?"

"Yeah, about what might have happened if you'd been there."

"So have Stella stay with me." The idea of another night in the room next to Boyd was almost as disconcerting as the thought of a night in the same room. "I promise to go straight home and not leave until morning." Grace forced a smile.

"It's no joke," he said, his voice rising. "Someone broke in. We don't know what they were looking for or whether they found it. They might come back."

"Use your indoor voice, please," she urged, glancing out at the bull pen as he barked at her.

"What am I? Five?" he growled, nevertheless lowering his voice.

"There are times I wonder."

He couldn't suppress a smile. "So why not make a professional visit?"

Her lips quirked up into a smile too as they slipped back into their familiar relationship.

"You keep saying I need to talk."

"You do. To someone. But I don't make house calls."

"Grace, please, indulge me."

"Please? Boyd."

"You know I hate to have to use the word. That should tell you how important this is."

"As for indulge, I do that everyday."

He rolled his eyes. "So?"

She stared at him, unsure exactly what they doing, what would happen to their relationship with each night they spent together, delving into parts of each other they had kept concealed. "You buy dinner."


	6. Chapter 6

This is a short chapter before we get into the case itself. Hopefully the next few chapters will be up much more quickly.

**Chapter Six**

The rain had started in earnest while they had been in the office. As they made their way towards the car it began to fall harder, the sky darkening with each heavy roll of thunder.

Ignoring the trickles of wetness falling beneath his collar, running down his back, Boyd opened the door, making sure she was safely inside before he walked around to the drivers side and climbed in.

"So do you want to stop somewhere and eat or grab take out?" Boyd asked, starting the car and turning up the heat in a weak attempt to dry off.

Grace turned, casting her eyes over the dark damp patches of his suit and his hair sticking to his neck. "You're thoroughly soaked."

"Shivering."

"You need to get out of those clothes."

"Really, Grace? Was that an offer to help?"

She rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air, fleetingly wondering what he would do if she made good on his suggestion. "Look if you don't mind omelette, I can cook."

"I may feel inclined to watch the football."

"I may be inclined to pilfer your wine collection."

"And you doubted I had a social life," he commented dryly

"Social life implies sociability, and we both know you don't possess that," she grinned as he pulled out of the yard. "Besides watching football and eating take out is hardly a social life."

"At least I leave the office occasionally now."

"Well it's a start, but I always had you pegged as growing old disgracefully."

"If wishing made it so, Gracie." He gave her what he considered his most disarming smile and returned to concentrating on the road before she could retort with a pet name of her own.

They had no sooner walked into his apartment when his phone rang. Shrugging out of his wet coat, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hey. Yeah, just got in. Yeah. Hang on." He turned to Grace. "I'm going to take this in the bedroom."

She knew without asking that Sarah was on the phone. It was clear that he didn't want her to hear him whisper sweet nothings in the ear of his long distance girlfriend, although she didn't seriously imagine him whispering, more likely he was talking shop, even so she didn't like the idea. Wandering into the spare room, she began to change into something more comfortable, kicking her shoes into the corner of the room and pulling on a fitted T-shirt in place of her sweater, her mind wandering to the conversation carrying on next door, the irrational hint of jealousy sparking.

"So were you serious about cooking?" Boyd asked, folding his arms across his chest and watching her from the doorway.

"Boyd!"

"The door was open."

Living alone, as she did, it hadn't occurred to her to close it. "You were on the phone."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. So, red or white?"

Grace raised one eyebrow.

"Wine?"

"You really need to ask?"

He gave her a rare smile. "I wasn't sure what one drinks with omelette."

"Depending what's in your freezer I might be able to do better than that."

"I can go out and grab us something."

"Just get me the wine and lead me to the kitchen," Grace said, pulling a fresh cardigan around her. "You said something about a football game."

"You like football?"

"No. But you do and I'm feeling kind."

Boyd located the corkscrew and set about pouring two glasses. "What's the catch?"

Grace smiled back at him. "No catch." Singing to herself, she began to make dinner, rummaging around in his freezer and wondering when exactly it had become so easy to wind him up.


	7. Chapter 7

I've never written a case story before and I don't have any real idea about police procedure so I apologise if it seems a little vague but it is a means to the end.

**Chapter Seven**

The heavy rain had stopped at some point in the night leaving a drizzle in it's wake and a fog that only added to the hazy heads Boyd and Grace shared as they climbed out of his car at the Cold Case Headquarters. A combination of red wine and talking till the early hours certainly wasn't making for an easy start to the day.

Boyd opened the door to the squad room and followed Grace down the steps. Spencer and Stella were already hard at work, phones to their ears as they tapped furiously on their keyboards. Elsewhere various members of staff were milling around, equally engrossed in tasks.

"Morning," Grace called out, throwing her bag onto the floor in her office. "More coffee?" she asked, turning to Boyd.

He nodded appreciatively.

"Hey Grace. Morning Boss," Spence called, finally lowering his mobile. "There's a parcel on your desk."

Backtracking, she slipped inside her office, and glanced down at the padded brown envelope apprehensively. It wasn't unusual for her to receive mail at the office, whether it was case referrals, manuscripts or case relevant documents but generally they came with a return address. This one clearly didn't and after recent events she was more cautious than usual. Slipping her little finger under the flap she tore it open and dumped the contents unceremoniously on her desk.

"Spence," she heard herself yelling as she read the single typed white sheet of paper for the second time.

Within seconds he was in her office. "Grace?"

"I think you might have your case." She dropped into her chair, succumbing to a wave of weariness she had been fighting since the break in.

"What you got?" He leaned over the table, tactfully ignoring the way she was trying to suppress her emotions.

"A note telling us where a murder took place, one of my case files carefully indexed. . . It's always nice when the criminals give us a helping hand," she offered sarcastically as she watched as he walked out of her office, opened the door across the hall, said something quietly and returned.

"How much have you touched?" Boyd asked, striding purposefully through the door and closing it with force.

"Just the note and then only with my index fingers."

Boyd nodded. "Ok. Spence, get Eve up here. We need to check for fingerprints. Your case file?" he clarified, as Spence left and he turned back to look at her.

"My handwriting. My multi coloured post-its."

"You ok?" he asked quietly, leaning over her desk and picking up her pen before nudging the case file aside. "I guess we should take a ride."

"Yeah? I'm guessing we're not talking an early lunch."

Boyd pretended not to hear the edge to her voice. "You can stay here but …"

"You need me there." She rose to her feet and moved around the desk, careful not to touch the evidence before taking the pen from him. "I'll write down the address and Spence can Tom Tom it or whatever. God knows if we'll ever find it if we try and decipher your scrawl," she offered at his perplexed expression. "Well, are we going?"

He rolled his eyes and moved towards the door, waiting for her to grab her bag, before ushering her out.

The car ride had been an unusually quiet one, Stella and Eve chatting intermittently as Spence drove.

Boyd spent his time watching the streets go by and catching glances at Grace in the wing mirror. She was trying hard to keep it together, stoic as she probably anticipated the worst he imagined and not for the first time he wished he had the answers to make it better, but he didn't and she didn't expect him to have them.

They finally pulled up outside an derelict row of houses, decorated with years of obvious neglect.

"It looks like an abandoned squat," Spence said, climbing out of the car and looking up and down the street. When he was certain no one was hanging around he took a step towards the house.

"Marginally nicer than the place you call home," Stella threw back.

"Hey."

Grace gave Stella a small smile, her mind temporarily drawn from what might be beyond the door. "Do we know who owns the building?"

"We know nothing, yet," Stella said, peering through one of the smashed windows. "I'm waiting for a call back. Except he has your case files."

Boyd gave the door a shove and stepped over the threshold, not in the least bit concerned about ownership or rights. The smell of death filled the enclosed space, taking them all by surprise despite their foreboding.

"Well I think we have the right place." Eve walked passed them and the followed the all too familiar aroma. She found exactly what she expected, or rather twice what she expected. "I think you'd better see this."

The team walked through the house, undeterred by the broken glass and littered floor, the smell getting stronger by the minute.

"Two bodies," Eve clarified, pulling on gloves. "One's been dead less than twenty four hours, the other a while."

Grace leaned over the younger doctor and couldn't contain her gasp. He was older, heavier but the small scar on his neck was unforgettable. His case file, the catalogue of his achievements as he liked to refer to them, lay on her desk back in her office. What she hadn't envisioned was finding him dead.

"We need an ID," Boyd announced. "He's in pretty good shape so that shouldn't be a problem. Someone call the techs. They're going to be here a while. . ."

"His name is Neil Buchanan. He's a former patient at Broadmoor." Grace began to distance herself from the body. "His preferred method is a screwdriver to the spinal cord and then slow suffocation."

Eve gently prodded the body. "He's been stabbed. How? I need to examine him back at the lab." She moved over to the older body, carefully studying the newly exposed remains. "I can't tell. He's too decomposed."

They all turned to stare at Grace.

"His case file." She chuckled coldly. "Apparently I attract the wrong sort of men if this is the sort of gifts they bring me."

Stella took a step towards her, wanting in some way to be a friend and in another to give Grace time to pull herself together. "I hate to say this but you need to face the prospect it's the first."

"Ok, Spence work on a door to door, see if we can place him, Buchanan, here. Stella, background the house. Who owned it, who owns it. How long has it been empty. Eve, you and your techs work the house," Boyd barked, finally having something to focus on. "Grace, you and I are going back to the office. I need to know all there is to know about him."

"Everything I know is in his file," she said timidly.

"You know more than you think you do. You work in facts. So we profile him, we profile the killer. It's what you do best, or so you keep telling me."

"Boyd!" she warned, not ready to fight yet.

He raised his hands up and began to walk away, not willing to push her. He knew she would follow, knew that she would do everything she could to help because that was one of the things they had in common, he just wasn't sure if she was up to it or what she would do when it was all over.


	8. Chapter 8

-1

**Chapter Eight**

Grace pulled her cardigan around her and glanced once more at the office across from hers. He was still deep in work, concentration etched on his face, his glasses slipping precariously down his nose. She knew if she left him he would work all night, probably wouldn't make it home, she also knew he would never let her go home alone. Smiling to herself and picking up her bag, she walked out purposefully into the main office.

"Night, Spence. Night, Stella," she called, casting a sneak look into his window.

They turned and waved in unison. "Goodnight, Grace."

She made it as far as the steps before she heard him behind her.

"Going somewhere?" Boyd asked, his tone laced with bemusement.

"Home."

He sighed deeply, his patience running thin at the end of a long day. "Do we have to go through this every night?"

Grace gave him a tentative smile. "Ok, I'm heading to your apartment."

"And this is going to happen how exactly?"

"As I see it you have two choices. You can give me a key and let me leave or grab your coat and take me home to bed."

Boyd failed to suppress his grin. "Really? Home to bed?"

Her face flushed pink and she rolled her eyes, realizing exactly what she may have implied. "Trust you to hear that bit."

"Are you tired?" he asked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the absence of the sparkle he loved so much reflecting back from them.

"Who isn't? And hungry." She vaguely remembered the toast they had shared at breakfast, lunch having slipped them by as they began the delicate process of correlating the evidence from the two bodies and she restudied the case file. Mid-afternoon Spence had broken into the snack machine, bringing them all chocolate. Other than that she had been existing on tea.

Boyd studied her face before making a decision. "Ok, I need five minutes. You can wait in my office, time me if you want to. Then we'll pick up dinner. I'll even order something with vegetables to make you happy."

"You may want to postpone dinner," Spence announced, gesturing wildly as he tossed something to Stella.

"What've you got?" Boyd asked, walking back towards the younger man.

"Grace just got an email."

"I did?" she asked, taken aback by the sudden revelation.

Boyd cringed, realizing that he had forgotten to tell her they were monitoring her mail. "We. . . I," he corrected at Spencer's cough. "Thought he might get in touch again. So anytime you get an email, or post . . ."

"Are you planning on reading my emails?" she asked, crossing her arms across her body and glaring at him. It had taken her years to become computer literate and now that she did it was practically the only way she kept in touch with her friends and her children. She didn't even want to contemplate what he would get to read if he went trawling around her inbox.

"No. Just any that . . ." He glanced at Spencer for help.

"We're flagging any that are routed through several servers or are from ISPs that seem irregular or are from unknown email accounts. Unless you have something juicy you want to . . ."

Grace only half listened to them as she glanced back into her dark office and her computer, a deep sense of foreboding washing over her. Silently, she walked back to her desk, flicking on the overhead light before settling herself before the screen.

The two men hovered in the doorway until she looked up. "Well you might as well come and read it." Ignoring the email from her daughter Grace clicked on the only other unread email. She knew it was from him the second she read 'Dearest Grace.' There was an address, and a short typed profile from her case file.

"Recognise him?" Spencer asked, reading over her shoulder.

"Yes." She rubbed her head hoping to stall the headache that was forming. "His brother buried him in the sand when he was six, left him there as the tide came up. A passer by pulled him out. He killed his brother when he was fourteen, buried him alive. His mother was found drowned and buried in a bunker on a golf course."

"The address is that of a builders yard."

"Sand!" was all Grace could say.

Boyd rubbed his forehead in a gesture mirroring hers. "Spence, you better get Eve to come with us." He leaned forward, his shoulder lightly brushing hers.

"Want to borrow my glasses?"

"No, I'm fine. Do you want to stay here?"

She nodded, contemplating her next move. "I can work up a profile. Make a few calls."

"And take a nap?"

"Yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Order in," he suggested, moving towards the door.

"Are you paying?"

"Yeah, just order enough for everyone." He turned slightly. Reheated pizza and Chinese were nothing unusual, he had just hoped for something a little more substantial.

"I'll even order enough for breakfast." She gave him a big smile and opened her drawer in search of their collection of menus.

"Anyone seen Grace?" Boyd asked, sticking his head out of his office.

When they had arrived back at the office, she had been hard at work in her office. Other than a brief update on the two bodies they had found, and a short food break around one am he hadn't seen her since. Boyd had then found himself tied up looking at the bodies of Everrett and a young woman, Grace had been taping away on her keyboard, talking to one of her peers.

Three hours on, her office was in darkness, the blinds pulled down, the door closed.

Spence pointed to her office. "Taking a nap," he yawned. He returned to calling and rudely awaking people. At four am he wasn't the most popular guy in the world and he longed for bed.

"You should go home, get a few hours sleep, shower, put on a clean shirt."

"What are you? My mother?"

"Just making an observation. Take Stella with you."

Quietly, he pushed open Grace's door and stepped inside. It took him a few minutes to adjust to the darkness, carefully not to move until he could make out the outline of her furniture and her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful that he decided against waking her. He needed her help with the second body but after ten years it could possibly wait a few more hours.

Checking the door was closed, he settled himself in her visitor's chair and studied her. If she woke up he would probably give her the fright of her life but he couldn't resist. His eyelids became heavy and he closed his eyes, intending to relax for a few moments. Without realising he drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A Little Disclaimer: I have tried to keep the case related references as vague as possible so not as to offend. The mental health terms have been referenced from an online source and I do not pretend to be a psychologist and I mean no offence to anyone.

**Chapter Nine**

Grace tried to roll over and stretch her body as she did every morning. Her foot caught something solid and she cursed. Opening her eyes, she caught sight of the couch and the events of the previous night came flooding back. With a heavy sigh, she moved until she was sitting upright, her feet firmly on the floor. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows cast from the blinds she saw him.

Boyd was stretched out in her visitor's chair, as much as anyone could stretch out, head on one side, looking anything but comfortable.

Rubbing her eyes, Grace stole another look in his direction, smiling to herself at his dishevelled state, beginning to get used to his presence every morning.

A light rapping on her door disturbed her reverie and quietly she moved to open it. "Hi."

"Have you seen . . .?" Spencer trailed off at the sight of his boss asleep, his jacket and shoes discarded.

"Ahh," Stella cooed.

"We need to wake him."

"We could put his hand in warm water," Stella suggested, hovering in the doorway, not really sure of the protocol of the situation.

"I don't think that's a recipe for waking him up," Grace commented dryly, wondering whether they should just let him sleep while he could.

Spence smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone "How do you usually get him up?"

Grace shot him a fierce look in warning. "Spence!"

"I meant . . ." he began, his smirk turning into a wide grin as his taunt hit the mark.

"I know what you meant."

"I know how I like to be woken up." Spence stole another glance at his boss. "I'm sure the boss has a preference too."

"Well, Spence. If you want to try it, Stella and I can leave you to it," Grace commented glibly, catching the slightest grimace cross Peter's face.

"I'm sure he'd prefer it to be you," Stella said before she caught herself, looking at Spence for help.

He pretended not to notice.

Grace turned her head, hoping they wouldn't see the blush creeping across her cheeks. "You can open your eyes now, Boyd."

One eye opened slowly as she struggled to sit upright. "You know a good morning kiss would have sufficed."

"Well the kids had other ideas." It was, however, a piece of information she would store away for another time on the off chance the occasion would arise.

"Well maybe the kids could go and play while we have a civilised coffee," Boyd grumbled.

Stella began to backtrack through the door, suddenly feeling like an interloper, her mind replaying the kiss comment and going into overdrive.

Spence lingered a little longer. "I have an ID for you."

Boyd opened his other eye. "Ok. We'll have a team meeting in fifteen."

Spence followed Stella, closing the door firmly behind him. "So did you leave any pizza?"

Boyd stretched, feeling the creaking as his body tried to realign itself. "I'm getting too old to sleep anywhere but my bed."

"You and me both." Grace slipped on her shoes. "Coffee?"

"Hot and black, please."

"Just how Stella likes her men," she commented, her expression blank.

Boyd groaned audibly. "Way too much information for this time of the morning." He shuddered as the first intimation of an image sprang to mind. "Grace!"

She gave him a wide smile, her eyes sparkling for the first time in days before disappearing out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------

Boyd stood before the evidence board thirty minutes later, wearing his jacket and tie and holding his second cup of coffee of the day. "Right, before we get to last night's bodies let's recap where we are."

"My house was broken into and all that's missing are some files."

"All of patients that you had in therapy in your previous employment."

Grace sipped her tea and nodded.

"An envelope arrived containing a file and an address," Stella interjected. "Which led us to the body of Neil Buchanan."

"What can you tell us about Buchanan, Grace?" Boyd asked, grabbing the remaining slice of cold pizza from the box.

"He was nineteen when he entered the unit for getting in a fight with his landlord. He stabbed him and then suffocated him in plastic. The police psychologist admitted him with dissociated behaviour."

"Which for us mere mortals. . .?" Boyd asked around a mouthful of food.

"You admit to being mortal. We're progressing," Grace teased. "Disassociation can be sudden, gradual or chronic. And the patient can't comprehend consciousness, identity and his environment. He can only focus on one at a time. Neil's was transient and depended largely on his surroundings."

"And occurred at least twice." Eve opened the file in front of her. "The second body has yet to be identified but has been dead at least fifteen years. Remains of plastic in the grave and a distinctive nick in the top of the spinal cord. And no I can't tell you whether Buchanan did it or someone else," she finished as Boyd opened his mouth.

He held his hands up in surrender. "Ok, second pair of bodies."

Spence rose to his feet. "Everett for sure. Buried in a mountain of sand, ten broken fingers so there was no way he was getting out. The second body has been identified as his cousin Laura."

"Drowned in probably bath water. But the tests are pending. She has been moved and reburied in the sand," Eve added.

"Grace?"

"Fits with his profile. He systematically killed family members who he thought had let him down on the day. One angry young man. He was one of our successes."

"Don't write yourself off, Grace. She'd been dead a long time," Eve said softly.

Boyd turned towards Grace and waited.

"You want me to profile the guy who's doing this."

"Yes."

"Well seeing as you like concrete evidence. I can tell you he's male, he's between twenty-eight and forty and has spent time in a mental health facility."

"See, I can work with that," he offered. "Based on what?"

She sighed audibly. "Buchanan and Everett were patients of mine twelve years ago. The majority of those in therapy were between eighteen and twenty five."

"Spence and I are trying to track down records from the facility."

Grace didn't want to dampen Stella's enthusiasm but the chances of her getting the records she wanted were slim to nothing. And even if she did get to read the files patients tended to disappear into the woodwork upon release.

"So why?"

"Transference. He's trying to please me because he couldn't please a significant person in his life."

"He's in love with you?" Boyd asked, his voice rising in anger.

"More likely he sees me as a maternal figure," she replied quietly.

"Does it ring a bell?" Spence asked, looking for some hint of resolution.

"No. I wish I could say it reminds me of Joe Bloggs, but . . ." she trailed off, wringing her hands in frustration. She could barely remember some of her patients, others were more firmly implanted in her brain, but even those she had tried to forget. Her files had been her therapy, her life's work in many ways. Whoever was doing this could be one of hundreds, just because he remembered her, didn't mean she knew him. The thought was a disconcerting one. "I'm going to make some more calls, see if I can get you a patient list." Rising to her feet she headed back to her office, ignoring Boyd's questioning gaze or the conversation continuing without her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grace knocked lightly on Boyd's door and entered without waiting, stopping in her tracks when she caught sight of Stella perched on his desk. "Should I come back?"

They turned, conversation coming to premature conclusion, a guilty expression fleetingly crossing their faces. "No it's fine."

Stella rose to her feet, giving Grace a small smile as she headed out of the room, hoping the older woman hadn't overheard her final comment.

"What can I do for you, Grace?" Boyd asked, as she hovered in the middle of his office.

"I need to go back to my house."

He sat up straighter. "What?"

"He's sending me my files. He's clearing cold cases. We need to know what files he has."

"Ok. I thought we knew which ones were missing."

Grace shook her head. "Thought we knew. I was there twenty minutes, Boyd. I might have missed something. He might have left me a clue without knowing. What if his file is one of those I missed?"

"This isn't your fault. You have a log or something?"

"No."

"A list somewhere?"

"No."

"Grace."

"I know exactly which files I had out. I need to make sure that I haven't missed any. We assume he's got six. If he's got more, if he raided the spare room, that might tell us something new."

Boyd continued to stare at her, debating whether to push her.

"Stella can come with me." In truth she wasn't sure she was ready to go back there alone, but she needed the space to look, to take in her house without him looking over her shoulder.

"Sit down a minute, please, Grace."

He was going to say no, she was convinced, as she settled herself on the couch, somewhat bemused as he awkwardly perched himself beside her.

"Boyd!"

"Have you considered the possibility he might solve Bill's case?" There he had said it. He glanced at Grace, his chest tightening slightly as he saw the pain flicker in her eyes, her swallow and her downcast gaze. He waited.

"No."

"Really?" he asked surprised. "He took the file. He might know who did it."

"I think it was his connection to me. Transferring his emotions to me means he needs to know all that there is to make me tick."

"You're sure he's a former patient."

"Yes." She refused to meet his eyes. "The files will tell me something about who it is."

"I took a look at the official file," Boyd said, his eyes downcast.

She turned to stare at him.

"Now's not the time to discuss it but when you're ready . . ."

"So can I go home?"

"Want me to come with you?"

Grace shook her head. "There really is such a thing as too much Boyd."

"Really? Don't believe it. Who told you that?" he asked, her tone having the desired effect and his amusement reaching his eyes

In truth she needed a break. They were beginning to resemble an old married couple and she was starting to enjoy it. The sooner she could move home and put distance between them the better. There was also something else at the back of her mind. Whoever was doing this wanted a connection with her, needed to know everything there was to know about her. The one thing he couldn't know because no-one knew, was that she had a deep emotional connection, because she wasn't really to label it as anything more, to the man sitting beside her. To connect with her fully, the killer would need to remove Boyd from the picture.

He didn't like the idea of her going back there without him, more than anything it wasn't something he wanted her to go through alone. "Take Stella. Call me if there's a problem."

Lightly she patted his hand. "Thanks, Boyd." She waited a beat. "For everything."


	10. Chapter 10

**Clarity and Salvation**

**Chapter Ten**

Grace rearranged the folders on her desk, more in frustration than for any logical reason, and checked her email for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes. They were nowhere. The case was going nowhere. The visit to her house had revealed nothing and other than a bag of clean clothes she had left with nothing more than she had arrived with.

In the last twenty four hours there had been no more parcels, no more emails and no more bodies. The last of which she was relieved about.

Despite yelling, harassing and flirting, Stella was no closer to discovering the whereabouts of at least twenty of Grace's former patients. She and Spence had spent most of the day on the phone, finally reaching the same conclusion as Grace, while Eve re-examined the bodies, hoping that they would give her something more to go on. So far it was proving fruitless.

Boyd was another day closer to his inevitable breakdown, exhausted and frustrated. The more questions he asked, the more worked up he became. Grace couldn't help but smile as he passed her office every so often quoting the Tempest, peering in the window to casually check on her when he thought she wasn't looking. She cringed as she heard the tell tale sounds of him throwing things across his office or the yelling at the team when he couldn't locate a piece of evidence.

They were all a little keyed up, lack of sleep making it all the harder to deal with and for her it was personal and invasive and there was nothing she could do about it.

For her part, Grace had been speaking to former colleagues, trying to connect the two dead men, so far two of the other case files were in the same group therapy, and untraceable. It was a start but they were a long way from finding a murderer or figuring out who might be next.

The sound of voices filtered through the open doorway of he office and she looked up.

"Night, Grace."

"See you later."

"Night."

"Night all," she called in response, watching as the younger members headed out for the night.

After yet another long frustrating day, Boyd had taken the unusual step of sending everyone home, instructing them all that he didn't want to see any of them in the office before lunch the next day, which as it was a Saturday and they had hardly been home all week seemed reasonable enough.

"Are you ready?" he asked, leaning against the door frame, his coat draped over his arm.

Grace grinned back at him. "Are you sure you are?"

"We're just grabbing groceries. In and out." His plans for a evening in front of the television had disappeared out of the window when Grace had suggested they head to a supermarket. Her instance that they should eat something other than take away would normally have had little effect but her enthusiasm at the idea of cooking had been enough to convince him.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her belongings to follow him, wondering how he had managed to live alone as long as he had.

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Peter was fast regretting his decision. Pushing the trolley down the aisle, one handed, the other clutching his phone to his ear, he swerved to avoid a harassed mother. His body language left no-one in any doubt that he didn't want to be there or that it was something he enjoyed.

Grace disappeared at intervals, returning to drop more food into the trolley.

He rolled his eyes at the stream of fruit and vegetables, pasta and rice. "How many people are we buying for?" he grumbled as she walked back towards him.

"When was the last time you actually shopped?" Grace asked, throwing in a loaf of bread and oil.

"When I ran out of coffee," he grumbled in response. "No, Spence. That was to Grace. . ." He continued to carry on his conversation with Spence as he followed Grace towards the centre of the store. "Yeah, mother hen does spring to mind." He grinned mischievously. "Of course this could be what marriage is like."

"In your dreams," Grace remarked, heading down the alcohol aisle.

"She'll have you bringing her chocolate and flowers soon," Spence teased, wondering if there was more to the arrangement than just Boyd being protective.

Boyd considered it, he would just about consider anything if it would take her mind off the last few days.

She returned with two bottles of wine and a bottle of scotch, good scotch, and he smiled appreciatively. "Spence, you're not telling me anything I didn't already know. Go home. Eat something . . . Find yourself a nice young lady and . . . Yeah, I'm channelling Grace."

"He's not still working, is he?" She asked, hovering.

"Yeah."

"If he's not careful he's going to be late for dinner." Grace said loudly, knowing full well that Spencer had a hot date. She checked the trolley one last time. "Ok, we're done."

He glanced down into the trolley.

"It's on me, Boyd."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," he scoffed. "I'll pay. You cook."

"Sounds fair."

--------------------------------------

It was beginning to resemble normality or domesticity, or it would if either could remember what it was like. On the drive home they would inevitably fell into the category of two colleagues car pooling, discussing work and plans for the following day.

Once they were inside his apartment they became different people, playing out roles that were bringing them closer, chipping away at the small things that made their friendship so awkward.

Leaving him to unpack the groceries, Grace disappeared into her room, returning some minutes later to find a large glass of cabinet sauvignon on the counter.

She took a lengthy sip, waiting for him to finish strategically wedging food into his fridge. "Do you want to take a shower while I do my thing?"

"Your thing?" he asked with a sexy grin.

Grace rolled her eyes dramatically "You have a one track mind. Worse than Spence. I'm going to cook. I'm going to put on some music. I may even sing."

"You want to be alone!"

She did but only because she needed to feel like she was at home. A little music would clear her mind of everything she had seen in the last few days. Cooking would help concentrate her mind on something. And with Boyd occupied elsewhere she could pretend she was in her own home and not a guest.

"Ok. I'll take a shower, make a call or two. . ." He watched amused as she half filled a tumbler of whiskey and handed it to him.

"It's going to take me a while to make dinner." Cooking was Grace's way of relaxing, not that she bothered much just for herself these days and Boyd wasn't one to appreciate the nuances of a good meal but at least he enjoyed the food.

"What if I need a top up while I'm. . .?"

"Then you'll have to wait," she said with a smile, opening the refrigerator door and extracting food from his neatly arranged shelves.

--------------------------------------------

Grace settled herself on the couch, stretching out until she could dangle her feet over the edge.

"Comfortable?" Peter asked, glancing up from his Evening Standard.

She gave him a small smile. "Very."

"Mind if I turn the lights down?" He placed the paper on the side table and walked towards the light switch.

"No." Closing her eyes she allowed her mind to wander, surprised when he lifted her legs and placed her feet in his lap.

They sat in silence, his hands lightly resting on her feet as he watched her relax. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he finally asked, his patience running out.

"Sorry?" she opened one eye hazily.

"You were roaming the apartment again last night."

"Did I wake you?"

"It doesn't matter." Boyd shook his head. He had briefly debated getting up and joining her in the Living room, but talked himself out of it. For all his faults and his lack of perception when it came to women, it was obvious that Grace wasn't ready to talk to him. "Is it the case?" Gently, he began to rub her feet, not in the least bit perturbed by the intimacy of the action .

"Sometimes people don't sleep because they just can't sleep," Grace said, her voice drifting through the semi-darkness.

"And this is what they taught you?"

"Boyd, sometimes you learn more about life by living it." She flexed her foot as he stopped his ministrations, nudging him when he didn't start again immediately.

He grinned to himself, his thumb massaging the top of her foot.

They slipped into silence again, sitting side by side, his fingers lightly kneading her feet, her gentle breathing calming to him. There was a strange tension in the room, one that wasn't uncomfortable but one neither could quite decipher.

"When you stop talking I worry," Boyd commented, his head resting on the back of the sofa.

"When you stop talking you start yelling."

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of concern and bemusement. It was a question he frequently asked of her and one she seemed unwilling to answer.

"I think maybe you should have talked more, maybe you should have undergone more counselling," Grace began, not wanting to admit how she felt about him, how much she thought about him. "I don't think you found the right therapist. To achieve anything you need to have a connection, trust the person you're baring your soul to, and you have to want to reach the source of the problem, Boyd."

"Like you and I have."

She smiled. "Yes, like we have."

"I talk to you."

"To an extent. But you hold back."

"Like you are now," Boyd countered.

"Touché." Grace tried to stifle a yawn, unsuccessfully.

"Go to bed," he suggested lightly, wanting her to open up to him but not willing to push her.

"I'm comfortable here," she mumbled, sliding further down the couch. In truth Grace didn't want to go to bed. Alone she worried. In his presence she felt safe.

"Then go to sleep." It wasn't the most comfortable position to sleep in but if she slept, was settled, he could handle it for a night.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?"

Boyd bit back a cheeky retort.

"You're too old to sleep sitting up, remember," she offered, closing her eyes again.

"We're both too old to stay awake all night. So don't worry about me, just go to sleep."

----------------------------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11

**Clarity and Salvation**

**Chapter Eleven**

Boyd stuck his hand out, trying to lay his hands on the annoying ringing object. He was convinced he had only just fallen asleep so it couldn't be his alarm. He finally made contact with his mobile phone, knocking his watch across the room. "Shit." Raising it to his ear, he barked, "Boyd."

"Boss, they've found another body."

"What time is it?" Boyd asked, trying to sit up and put the light on at the same time.

"Three am."

Inwardly he groaned. "Another body. How? Where?"

"There was an email. Because I was the officer who flagged it, they called me."

"He tried to contact Grace?" Boyd slowly opened his eyes.

Spencer had been awake for ten minutes and he was still having problems processing. "Yeah. I'm guessing he wasn't expecting her to get it until the morning."

"Where?" He didn't care that he sounded less than welcoming.

Spence gave him the address.

"Ok, pick up Stella. . ." He hesitated, a strange thought tugging at the back of his brain. "And meet us there. Call Eve."

Climbing out of bed, he padded out into the living room and knocked lightly on Grace's door. There was no answer. "Grace." When he still couldn't hear anything he pushed open the door and stepped inside. She slept, he noted, facing the door, the duvet hanging off the bed, pillows padded around her head. She also slept in considerably less clothing than she wore during the day. He felt a little like a voyeur, standing there, watching her sleep but he couldn't help himself. "Grace!" he tried a little louder and she stirred, rolling onto her back. It was no good, he was going to have to try a more tactile approach. Fleetingly, he debated kissing her, but he knew that it was just fanciful, instead he gently touched her arm.

"Boyd?" she asked, startled, sitting up and pulling the duvet around her, "What's wrong?"

"I wouldn't have woken you. . ."

Realisation hit before he could continue. "More bodies?"

"Yeah." Involuntarily he stared at her in the dim lighting of the room.

"I'll throw on some clothes."

"Ok." He didn't move.

"You should go back to your room and do the same."

He glanced down and realized that he was standing in her room in his under shorts. "Yeah." He made it half way to the door. "Is it possible Spence didn't need to pick Stella up?"

"Are you asking if they're sleeping together?"

"Do I even want to know the answer?"

Grace pulled a face, enjoying watching him getting distressed.

Boyd shook his head, trying to dispel the two distinct images from his mind. "Ok, I'm going to get dressed now."

---------------------------------------

There was something more sinister about visiting crime scenes in the dark of night, picking your way through leaves and scrub, expecting the worst.

"Is it possible there are snakes?" Boyd asked, leading her towards the crime scene.

"I don't think a Boa or an adder are going to jump out and eat you," Grace deadpanned.

"See that's what I love about you - so reassuring."

Spence was waiting when they finally reached what had become a clearing, the foliage trampled, search lights set around the area.

Eve was crouched down in her now traditional white overall, studying the two bodies.

"What have we got?"

"Two bodies. Identical wounds which have bled out." She cast her torch over the red saturated grass beneath her knees. "The more recent was definitely killed here."

Grace leaned over and took a look, stepping back almost immediately.

"They both took a knife to the femoral artery," Eve continued, talking to Grace.

"ID?" Boyd barked, looking at Grace.

"James Foster. He was nineteen when he entered the unit. Would be 29 now."

Stella appeared in the glow of the search light. "The second scene is this way."

Boyd glanced at Grace and back at Stella. They began to walk towards the young DC.

"You have to admit, Boyd, Spence's jumper does suit her."

He growled something inaudible and stomped on ahead leaving Grace grinning in his wake, taking a small measure of pleasure in the midst of what was awful.

---------------------------------------------------------------

They were gathered around the board, empty sandwich containers littering the table along with half empty coffee mugs.

Boyd tapped the photo of the latest find. "Is he decelerating? Is the urge dying down?"

"More likely he has just taken it little longer to find them," Grace commented.

"But he could be . . ."

"I don't know what he's doing. Catch him and maybe you can ask him," she snapped a little too readily, lack of sleep pushing them all to the edge.

"Give me something I can work with and maybe I bloody will." He threw his hands up in the air. "He was your patient. He's trying to get in your mind. Maybe you should listen to what he's telling you."

There was a stunned silence in the room as the spat finally hit the mark.

It was Sunday afternoon and they were all at the office, having not bothered returning home after their rude awakenings.

Grace stared back at him, the hurt reflected in her eyes. Slowly, she rose to her feet and headed purposefully towards her office.

"Grace," he called after her. "Come on Grace." He knew he had gone too far the second the word left his mouth but he was frustrated and that frequently meant he was out of control.

Grace slammed the door vehemently. She wasn't known for her tantrums or for getting overly emotional but this time it was a little too close to home. How could he think she wasn't listening, wasn't trying to profile him.

He knocked.

She ignored him, focusing on the blinds rather than voicing her anger.

Boyd knocked again, opening the door a little.

"For God's sake can't you just leave me alone."

Frustrated, he closed the door and strode back to his office, angrily slamming his own door, the sound reverberating around the office.

Spence glanced between the two offices, his expression sullen. "This is bad on so many levels."

"It's not as if they haven't drawn blood before," Stella offered, watching Boyd pace his office.

"This time it didn't feel like watching your parents fighting," Spence volunteered. He had a good idea why Boyd was reacting the way he was. Spencer's own anger and need to bring Grace justice was leading him to make decisions he wouldn't normally make, not least of all taking Stella back to his apartment. The thing about Boyd though was that when he let his emotions get involved he became determined to the point of obsession, fearless about going round, over and through anything that got in his way. Grace it appeared was in his way.

Eve shook her head, professionally she respected Grace but she also considered her a friend. As she watched Grace standing in the middle of her office she realised that friendship had gone by the wayside since the break in. She needed to rectify that. "It's hard to be professional when your emotions are ruling your head." Softly, she tapped on Grace's door. "It's Eve."

"Come in."

Grace settled herself on her sofa, staring at the pile of work on her desk. It wasn't the first time she had thought of walking away, and not the second, only this time it wasn't an option, at least not until they had found the murderer.

"I was wondering if you fancied grabbing a late lunch."

"Thanks, but. . ."

"We can share an expensive bottle of red and you can rant about Boyd," Eve said, smiling weakly.

Grace looked up at her, not sure what to say.

"It can't be easy living with him under normal circumstances. When all this is going on. . ."

"He's trying so damn hard."

"Let's go somewhere, drink, eat and then maybe it won't be quite so awful when you go home tonight."

"I wouldn't count on it." Grace grabbed her oversized bag and followed Eve into the corridor. "We're going out for a little while. Call if you need us."


	12. Chapter 12

**Clarity and Salvation**

**Chapter Twelve**

The bar was busy, filled with football fans watching the big screen and drinking in excess. It wasn't the place they would have chosen but it was as close to the office as they could find and with the constant noise no one was likely to over hear them.

Eve returned from the bar carrying a bottle of Merlot and two glasses. "They don't do food when the football's on. So I ordered chips. Apparently that's ok."

"They obviously don't do expensive plonk either." Grace poured two glasses and took a long sip. "You realise I could get very drunk on this."

"And that would be a bad thing, because?"

Grace shook her head. "Because I tend to get a little loose on the tongue."

"Ah."

There was a cheer as one of the teams scored.

"Boyd keeps doing that."

"Doing what?" Eve asked, loosing the gist of the conversation.

"Belittling my work."

"He doesn't mean to."

"Yes, he does. He baits me. Every idea I have he challenges. He can't handle anything that isn't set in stone or based on his own idea. Every debate he draws me into the irrational little whorl that is his reality. And he yells, like a little child having a tantrum, metaphorically stamping his feet until he gets what he wants. It's like it's the only way he knows to communicate," she bemoaned. Her thoughts turned back to the previous Friday night and his rubbing her feet, so gentle and so thoughtful.

Eve didn't say anything, listening intently, hoping that finally Grace would open up completely.

"You know what's sad. I have two kids I hardly ever see. They call, they email but they have their own lives, partners and jobs. So this is all I really have - the cases, the victims, the team and Boyd, because somehow or other we've managed to become friends. None of it adds up to a conducive life to meeting people."

"This is all Boyd has too. His work and . . .," Eve hesitated, not really sure what reaction she would receive. "You."

Grace shook her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "He sometimes forget that."

Eve bit her lip and decided to go for it. "We all believe in what we do. We give people closure when everyone else has given up. We ask the difficult questions and we don't stop until we get results. We all put in 100. You two, you go above and beyond, it all becomes personal and boundaries get blurred." She pulled a face as Grace shook her head and opened her mouth to interrupt. "I've seen you circumnavigate police procedure to get justice for a victim. Maybe not quite as remarkably as Boyd but Boyd doesn't see obstacles, generally until he's bulldozed them. You tend to see them as puzzles to solve. You're interdependent."

"And without me, he'd find someone else to bully."

"No, without you, he'd have broken down years ago." She sipped her wine. "You know he blames himself for what's going on."

"I never said he was rational," Grace commented dryly, knowing in her heart that Boyd was more personally binded to her case than he normally was.

"He wants to catch this guy, he wants to solve the how and why and protect you all at the same time."

Grace shook her head as she poured another glass. "I don't see Boyd as a knight in shining armour."

"Really. He rushed into your house knowing that the intruder might still be there, he insisted you stay at his house. I don't think he's been more than a few feet from you since this whole thing started. Maybe not a knight but he cares. . . "

"We're his team."

"You're his friend. From what I know about you two, this isn't the first time. You save him, he saves you. But for two highly intelligent people you're blind to what's there."

"I don't think after all these years we're suddenly going to fall in love and live happily ever after." She wasn't sure if it was the wine loosening her tongue or just tiredness but she felt freer for talking to Eve.

"Yeah, happily ever after, probably not, but maybe you two should just sleep together and figure the rest out later."

Grace's eyes went wide.

"Make up sex could solve half your problems. Work out a little of that frustration." Eve's grin widened as Grace refused to look at her. "Obviously not a new thought."

"And cause a whole hell of a lot of problems." She paused momentarily. "He and I would be a nightmare together. There are so many things I hate about him."

"And quite a few you love."

"Yes," Grace said quietly. "Of course there is one stumbling block to your idea."

"Yeah. Oh, the American chick. Yeah, she won't stick around."

Grace raised an eyebrow.

"Woman's intuition." Everyone was so used to her being tucked away in the lab that they often didn't notice her. It gave her plenty of opportunities to eavesdrop and people watch. The signs had been there for days but Grace had been too caught up to notice them and it wasn't Eve's place to point them out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm going to bed," Grace announced, walking towards her room. Grace had barely made it back to the office before Boyd had announced they were calling it a night. She hadn't argued and for once hadn't brought any work home. The car ride had been quiet as he focused on the road and she stared out of the window, regretting the afternoon consumption of alcohol.

"Do you want a drink?" Peter asked, double locking the door and stealing yet another look at her. He'd been doing it all the way home, hoping she hadn't noticed as he contemplated what to say.

She shook her head, before turning and disappearing into her room. "No, thank you."

Boyd helped himself to a large scotch from the bottle on the countertop. He sat down and rose to his feet again before hovering outside of her door. "You know I'm an insensitive prick." He listened for a response. "And I'm driven and reckless. And we both know I need therapy for anger management." Moving away from the door he poured a large glass of wine and positioned himself in the middle of the living room.

Grace opened the door and leaned against the door frame. "You can be a complete and utter bastard, Boyd."

"I know." He handed her the glass. "Trouble is, that's who I am."

"Not always."

"I am sorry. I wanted to say that earlier . . ." he said, his voice laced with conviction.

"But. . .?" Grace asked, crossing her arms across her chest and waiting.

"You wouldn't talk to me and then you were gone."

"So it's my fault." She couldn't believe he was about to turn this on her.

Boyd ran his free hand through his hair. "No."

She turned back towards her room. "When this is over you need to get help?"

"I don't want to talk to a stranger." His last session of anger management hadn't been wholly productive, or rather it had tackled the short term problem but left him with issues that he had been reluctant to share.

"You've never been very good at talking to me." She hesitated, one foot already in her room.

"Yeah, but you listen, you ask the right questions. . .," he trailed off, not willing to admit that there was no one else in the world he could or would talk to about what was really going on inside his head.

"If we're friends at the end of this. If I still want to do this job then maybe."

He said her name softly, just a little frightened by the tone of her voice.

Momentarily, she turned. "Forget I said that. I'm just tired. Good night, Boyd."

Boyd stared at the closed bedroom door long after she had disappeared inside it, not willing to admit which idea scared him most.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	13. Chapter 13

The penultimate Chapter. Just wanted to say thank you for the reviews. They are appreciated and they do make me write much faster. The final chapter just needs tweaking so it should be up in a few days.

**Clarity and Salvation**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Are you ok?" Boyd asked for what had to be the fifth time that morning. They had hardly talked over breakfast, both nursing mugs of coffee, and taking surreptitious looks at each other. When he did try to initiate a conversation she would answer with one word and return to drinking her coffee.

"I'm fine, Boyd," she replied her tone weary, increasing her pace as she tried to put distance between them.

"Ok, so now I know you're not." He stopped walking.

"Look," Grace sighed resignedly. "I'll forgive you, just give me a little space. And a little time."

He tried to read her expression, tried to see past the exhaustion and defeat etched across her face "But we're ok?"

She nodded mutely. In time she would forgive him, probably put everything in perspective but she wasn't ready yet to do that.

Stella was practically bouncing up and down when they entered the headquarters a few minutes later, side by side in an uncomfortable silence.

Boyd glanced at Grace, his face expressionless.

"Have you been to bed?" Grace asked, ignoring the strange strangulated noise Boyd made.

"Yeah. Came in early."

"No sign of you getting cynical and depressed?" Boyd asked sarcastically.

Stella grinned broadly, "Nah, leave that to Spencer. Coffee?"

"What you got?"

Stella smirked, walking backwards across the room.

Spence looked around, finally detaching himself from hours of staring at a TV monitor. "Morning, Grace. Morning Boyd."

Boyd positioned himself to look at the monitor. "Stella?"

"On a hunch I requested all the CCTV, speed cameras, police stops from around the area of the park. He dug up the first body, he would have needed a spade, so he needed transport. Walking around with a spade under your arm in the middle of the night is going to raise suspicions. There's only two ways in. We've been reviewing the footage."

"Since four am," Spencer grumbled, lifting his third mug of black coffee to his lips.

"Yeah. There were only three vehicles who entered the park that night."

Boyd perked up. "Do we have registrations?"

Stella nodded.

"And?"

"We're about to run them."

He almost smiled and motioned for her to get on with it. "Coffee, Grace?"

"Thanks." She nudged him in the ribs, indicating with her head the young officer.

"Huh? Oh, nice work, Stella. Spence." He made his way over to the coffee machine and came back with two cups.

Grace took the proffered cup. "Thank you, you two. Let me know when you have a name." She made her way to her office and closed the door.

Boyd watched her go before turning back to his two officers. "You're running plates," he said at their confused expressions. "We've called a truce, sort of, ok?"

"Good," Stella said, tapping at her keyboard.

"Ok." Spencer picked up his phone and made himself busy.

"In that case I'll be in my office. Let me know when we have an ID."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stella and Spencer came to a halt in the corridor, glancing between the two offices and at each other.

"Ok," she asked, "Which one first?"

"We could take one each."

Stella shook her head. "And one of us will get yelled at."

"Or we could get them in the same room and do it together.," Spencer suggested, not really sure who would be more pissed off at being left to last.

"I'll get Grace."

Stella knocked and pushed open the door. "Grace."

The older woman looked up, for a brief moment the effects of the week were etched on her face, her age clear for all to see.

"We have a name." She backtracked to Boyd's office and waited.

Grace followed, perching on the arm of the nearest chair, not wanting to commit to being there.

"A Matthew, Math to his friends, Tomlinson was caught on camera entering the park at 12.08am. No sign of him at the police stops. Our victim arrived on foot around 12.20. Its grainy but it's him," Stella announced, her hands gesturing wildly as they did when the adrenalin kicked in.

"What time did he leave?" Boyd asked, feeling finally that they were on to something.

"The car was captured leaving at 1:46am."

"Does the name ring a bell?"

Grace covered her face with her hands, probing her memory for any recollection.

"The time frame seems a little out," Spencer commented, pulling a face.

Eve appeared in the doorway, and settled herself on a chair. "It wouldn't have taken long to bleed out. Twenty minutes maybe. The cut was pretty deep and wide. Then he would have needed to dig up the body. With the rain, the soil would have been easier to displace."

"Grace?" Boyd demanded.

"He's not a patient."

"He was a member of the custodial staff, "Eve interrupted. "I rang Broadmoor, got them to search their records. They're going to fax his staff records to me as soon as they can find them."

Grace shrugged, clearly no clearer to who they were talking about.

"Sure?"

"I'm not lying, Boyd. I don't know who he is."

"Ok." He held his hands up in surrender, not wanting to upset her any further.

Spence moved towards the door. "Are we going to bring him in?"

"We need to tie him to the victims." He glanced at Grace. "Check the time frame. Will you profile him?"

"Bring me the files." She rose to her feet and left, leaving the four of them staring after her, waiting for someone to go after her but no one moved.

------------------------------------------------------------------------


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, we're there. The final chapter. Hope you enjoy. Apologies for it lacking in smut (You know who you are!) but maybe in the next one.**

**Clarity And Salvation**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Grace hovered outside Boyd's office, her long dark coat buttoned around her, waiting for him to acknowledge her. She had been standing there for a full two minutes, watching him read, his fingers gently massaging his temples, his glasses slipping further and further down his nose. He looked calm and so deep in concentration that she hadn't wanted to disturb him, but she couldn't wait any longer. "Boyd."

"Hi." He glanced at her attire, his eyebrows quirking up in surprise.

"I don't want to be here for this."

Boyd waited a beat, not completely surprised by her reaction. She had practically sequestered herself in her office all day, going over work record sheets from the secure unit, typing her assessment for him and trying, he knew, to remember some small detail about a man who she had obvious had an effect on. Her work was technically complete but he needed a little more from her. "You know him better than anyone." He held up the manila file containing her report.

She chuckled coldly. "I don't want to know him." It was all so abstract because she had been inside his mind, had read about his relationship with the prisoners and his girlfriends suicide the previous years. She just had no recollection of the small man that Spencer was bringing in.

"Grace!"

Dropping unceremoniously on to his couch, she pulled her bag in front of her, protecting herself from an invisible threat. "He's a cat, bringing his mice home for mummy. He led us to six bodies, Boyd, all displayed for me. It doesn't matter that he only killed three of them, he knew about the others, he wanted to kill more, for me. Maybe you're right, maybe they are all sick and twisted." She felt like a failure. All three victims she had sat in a room with, listened and tried to help. The knowledge that there had been more bodies lying in unmarked graves while they sat through therapy and were released as treated was a little too much to take in.

When he had started the cold case unit he had never anticipated that it would become so personal, but all of them had histories and successes. He probably should have known. The last time he had seen her so unravelled she had almost been killed, him too for that matter. Back then his first thought had been to be a friend and protect her, this time all he wanted to do was hold her. "Don't you want to know why?"

"No," she replied emphatically. "I don't want to know why now or how. I just want to go home."

"I need you in the interview." She looked horrified at the prospect. He had planned on having her observe the interview and to prompt him on what to say.

"No." She glared back at him. "Sometimes you ask too much."

He studied her face, saw the exhaustion and the look of finality he recognised from the mirror when cases got too much.

"You have everything I can give you in the file."

She closed her eyes, her arms wrapping tighter around her body, effectively protecting herself from the world, and he knew that he couldn't put her though it.

"Will you at least wait in your office? Have a drink and wait for me, just in case."

"Boyd!"

"You should be here. What is it the Americans call it? Closure? And being at home, alone, will only make you wonder what's happening here."

She rolled her eyes, too many cases, too many quotes being thrown back at her. "I'll give you an hour then I'm going home." She rose to her feet wearily and headed back to her office, exchanging his couch for her own, knowing that an hour would surely turn into two.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later and Boyd still hadn't started the interview. Grace had finally moved from her couch to grab a drink. She made her way back from the coffee maker, her ears automatically pricking up when she heard Boyd's voice. He was clearly talking on the phone, his conversation loud enough for anyone close by to catch.

"Yeah, I know. I would have liked to have come over. You could have taken me for a sandwich. But she's been through a lot. The break in, the murders . . ."

It didn't take a genius to figure out who he was talking to and Grace didn't like the drift of the conversation.

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave her right now. She's been there for me and now it's my turn."

She made her way back to her office and grabbed her belongings before walking out past his office, the fresh cup of coffee discarded on her desk, his obvious pity too much for her to deal with.

Boyd laid down his phone and ran his fingers through his hair. It hadn't been the most difficult conversation of his life, he believed that might still be to come, but it was necessary.

"He's in the interview room," Stella announced, peering around his doorway before moving back to tell Grace. Her eyes scanned the empty office and she shrugged.

"Ok, You observe," Boyd called, focused on the suspect and practically marching towards the interview room. "Spencer, you're with me."

**-------------------------------------------------------**

Boyd had been surprised when he'd finally gotten out of the interview and found Grace's office in darkness. He'd known she hadn't wanted to sit in but he had thought he'd talked her into at least waiting around for him. It had taken nearly two hours to get everything he needed to ensure that Math Tomlinson would be spending the rest of his life under psychiatric care and that Grace could live without fear but he had expected she would wait. "Did Grace leave?"

"Why? Did you do something to piss her off?" Stella asked, packing the contents of the board into a plain cardboard box.

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her.

"Well it's not beyond the realm of possibility," she shrugged, her small grin etched across her face.

That much was true he had to acknowledge. He did have a way of saying the wrong thing to her or doing something she found less than favourable. But he had been trying of late, more touchy feely, less bull in a china shop, and despite the previous days fight he had thought they were progressing.

"The case is closed. She can go home," Eve offered, a wry smile on her face.

The prospect hadn't actually occurred to him. "Well I'm off too."

"Night," they called in unison, watching as he practically ran out of the building.

His apartment was lit up like a lighthouse when he arrived home, every lamp on, every door open. Grace was in the spare room, opening drawers and doors and making enough noise to wake the dead.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone bordering on accusation.

"Moving back to my house." She threw another sweater into the bag.

He chuckled bemused. "Can't that wait until tomorrow?"

"No," she replied vehemently, anger and confusion fighting for control of her body.

He wasn't sure why she was ticked off, only that she clearly was. "This is stupid, Grace."

"Yeah, well maybe I am stupid." At her age she should have known better than to let her feelings get away from her.

He threw his hands in the air, a gesture that was meant to provoke a reaction. "Women," he muttered under his breath.

She turned angrily. "Sorry?"

Ordinary men would have hesitated, would have considered carefully the next few words out of their mouth. Boyd was anything but ordinary. "You're all the same. There are all these unspoken rules. We ask how you are, you say fine. We just learn what to do to make you happy and the next minute it's the wrong thing to do. It's like it doesn't matter how hard I try, I'm never going to get it right."

She threw the closest thing at hand and it missed by miles.

Boyd had never walked a way from a fight in his life, in principle. In fact he thrived on it. Arguing with Grace normally didn't have that major an effect on him, they were friends after all who had disagreements like everyone else. This time he sensed it was different, that their friendship, their working relationship, everything was on the line. Silently, he left the room and walked through the apartment to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard, he took out a bottle of red wine he had bought especially for her and poured a glass, waiting and hoping she would follow.

"She wanted me to go over there for a few days. What you overheard was me making an excuse not to go," he ventured when she appeared in the doorway.

"No, what I overheard was you telling your girlfriend that you had a colleague staying and you felt like you had to stay."

Inwardly he smiled, knowing that he had guessed what was bothering her. Outwardly, he sighed, desperately needing to find a way out of the conversation before he said the wrong thing. Of course if he was reading the situation right, and he hoped he was, Grace was jealous. That meant only one thing.

"See, I'm right."

"Grace."

"No, Boyd, I'm done." She began to walk away.

He took a deep breath. "It was the easier option."

She stopped moving but remained with her back to him.

"I've never really had to tell someone it was over. People generally leave me. My wife, my girlfriends, Mel." He took another deep breath. "And now you."

His words had her trying to catch her breath.

"Although in your case it's probably a good thing you're leaving." He was raising his voice at her, he knew, and that never drew good results, but he couldn't help himself.

Grace turned slowly, wrapping her arms around her body, indicating nothing. "It is?"

"You make things complicated." There were so many adjectives he could have used but that seemed to sum it up in one.

She rose one eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

Boyd rubbed his hand across his face. There was a line between them, one that had become blurred since the break in, one that he hoped he wasn't imagining disappearing. So usually self-assured he wasn't used to honesty, and he wasn't used to leaving himself open to rejection.

Grace took a step towards him, her body language softening. "You don't exactly make life easy."

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"And I don't think I like being your excuse for dumping your girlfriend."

Boyd almost smiled at the way she snarled 'girlfriend.' "You are the excuse," he said softly, almost inaudibly. Not exactly the most romantic way of trying to tell her how he felt but then they had never been conventional.

Silence echoed in the apartment.

"Ok, not so much the excuse as the reason."

"Something I said?" Grace asked, practically holding her breath as her heart beat a little faster.

"You'd probably put it down to projecting or an attachment disorder, but there's this thing."

"Sounds nasty," she quipped, fleetingly wondering if the temperature had actually dropped in the apartment or if it was a sense of foreboding.

Boyd decided to chance it. If he was totally off base with the changing nature of their relationship she would walk away and over time he would stop missing her. If he was right, his future was going to be quite a roller coaster. "Would you like to go out, have dinner or something?"

"Boyd!"

"Not now. I mean we could if you want," he stumbled, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "But maybe another time, the two of us. And not in the middle of a case.

She didn't want to tell him that they always seemed to be in the middle of a case. "You're blustering again."

"I should probably talk to someone about that." He unconsciously walked towards her, grinning inanely and briefly leaving his emotions totally unmasked.

"Yes, you should." She gave him a tentative smile, not sure what would happen next but for probably the first time in her life wanting to be the risk taker in the relationship. "Not right now. Sometimes you should just stop talking."

"See now I'm confused. What should I do?" He was on a roll. In his head he was planning to tell her how he felt, to suggest that they try a date or two, maybe even apologise again for seeming to undervalue her. She had effectively stopped him.

"Peter."

His name coming from her lips conveyed the mixture of emotions he was fighting with and he closed the distance. "If I make a complete idiot of myself, forgive me."

"This could be the stupidest thing we've ever done," Grace whispered when he was barely inches from her, his proximity sending shivers through her.

"Not doing it could be even stupider." He stared at her, realizing that they were about to jump off a cliff.

"If you're going to kiss me you should just do it," she said in a rush of words, suddenly feeling sixteen again but without the awkwardness. "If you weren't maybe you should do it anyway."

Boyd's eyes twinkling were the last thing she remembered before her eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her for the first time. His smile was the first thing she saw when they needed to breath.

Grace took a deep breath and rolled over until she was on her side. She still couldn't quite believe that they had kissed or that she had ended up in his bed, him holding her while she slept. But it was real and he was asleep beside her, his hand in hers.

Lightly, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his, pulling away almost immediately.

Peter moaned lightly and she smiled before leaning in and kissing him again, teasing him with her lips.

Boyd didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want her to stop, knowing that they hadn't talked about what came next or how they were going to do this. As she pulled back again he tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging her back for a kiss, knowing that whatever happened this was the way he wanted to wake up.

The End


End file.
